Angels on the Moon
by ttrainsandsewingmachiness
Summary: Stuck working at a shitty tattoo parlour, Edward has nothing to live for. Bella takes up a job there, and he can't deny that he's falling for her... Rated M for smut, language and foul behaviour. Lemon at the end of the first chapter.
1. Drift

_**A/N: Mmm kay, so this one is a little… different from ARR. I'm almost finished it, so I figured I'd start a new one. It DOES contain lemons, just… not right away, foul language and Edward being a dick—so if you don't like these sorts of stories, go away! Haha! Kidding… but, seriously, if you don't like it, I'd prefer you didn't torture yourself, sitting through this bull. Lemon at the end.**_

_**- - -**_

_**Edward Cullen is on his last line at Drift—a tattoo and piercing parlour on the East side of Seattle. He'd much rather quit than continue work there, but it pays good. So he stays. Then a strange new girl starts working there—with a passion for art and… Shakespeare. If you saw her, you wouldn't really be surprised. Modest clothing, barely any make up… Edward doesn't usually go for that kind of thing. He's more on the side of big-breasted blonds. But he really can't deny what this chick has gotten him into. He finds him falling in love with Bella Swan. But there's a deep secret beneath that pale complexion of hers…**_

_**- - -**_

_Drift: a heap of any matter driven together._

_- - -_

**EPOV**

_Shit, shit, shit! Fuck!_

I was late again. And my phone was ringing.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed when I jammed my toe into the corner of my bed, hopping across the room, trying to tug my pants on and reach for my cell phone at the same time. "What?" I growled into it. I didn't have fucking _time_ for this! I was late already, and didn't need to be held up by another wasted phone call.

"Good morning," Tanya purred into the phone.

Cocking the phone between my head and shoulder, I pulled my pants up around my hips and zipped them. "What to you need, Tan?" I asked, trying to keep my voice mellow. I grabbed my leather jacket from the chair in the corner of my room, tugged on my shoes and exited my apartment.

"Are you okay?" she suddenly asked, and to my utter fucking surprise, she sounded… concerned.

"I'm fine," I said, stabbing the elevator button, and began tapping my shoe, restlessly waiting for the elevator to arrive.

"You don't _sound_ fine," she protested. "Do you need to come over there?" she then questioned, and the lilting tone to her voice turned seductive.

I sighed, running my fingers through my already fucked up hair. "No, Tanya, I have work and I'm fucking late," I snapped.

I could almost hear her wince on the other line. "Well, sorry," she responded, defensively, "I guess I'll talk to you later."

Before I could apologize for being such an asshole, she'd hung up.

The elevator doors gaped open, and I stepped inside, shoving my phone into my back pocket. The elevator was vacant, so I rested my head against the wall, shutting my eyes. I took a few deep breaths, and by the time I reached the main floor, I'd managed to tone down my anger.

Then I was sprinting again. I shoved through the front doors of the apartment building I was living in, pulling my keys out. My Volvo beeped as I unlocked it, and I slid in, revelling for a moment, in the smooth gray leather interior.

But it didn't last for long. I lodged the keys into the ignition, twisting them violently. The Volvo snarled to life.

Simultaneously buckling up and checking my blind spot, I slid out of the parking spot and zipped out of the parking lot.

What a great fucking Monday. James would have my fucking ass. What a prick of a boss. I didn't even know why I worked at the stupid tattoo parlour anyway. It was full of skanky bitches just entering the store so dudes could draw on their extremities, buff dudes, cocky enough to push us around when we didn't do a tattoo right, because they were too fucking busy flexing their muscles at chicks across the parlour.

At least it paid well. That was probably the only reason I was still there. If I didn't have a job like this, I wouldn't be living in this grand fucking apartment, or have my Volvo. And I definitely would not have Tanya. Which… y'know, wouldn't be a bad thing if she wasn't such a ditz. She gave good blow jobs, and screamed when we fucked—so I shouldn't really be complaining.

I pulled into _Drift's_ parking lot. I was going to swing into my usual parking spot, but some fucker had pulled in with a rundown, rusty red Chevy. I pulled in beside it and got out of my car, hurrying into the shop.

The bells overhead clanged when I walked in.

"Cullen!" a voice called before I got halfway through the lobby. I rolled my eyes and glanced over my shoulder where James was resting his elbows on the reception desk. The secretary, Angela, was leaning away in her chair, probably suffocating on his disgusting BO. I shot her a sympathetic glance before I turned my gaze on James's face. He was completely disregarding the redheaded chick in front of him, who was struggling to fill out her wavers. "Where the fuck have you been? Your shift started an hour ago!" he seethed, pointing at the clock on the wall behind him.

I huffed a sigh. "Sorry, got hung up in traffic," I lied, and then turned to go into the back room to take off my coat. I shoved the black velvet curtains aside, stomping into the little alcove.

My one and only friend here had been speaking to some new girl, but when I stormed in, she looked up.

"Hey, Edward," she greeted.

"Fuck off," I snapped bluntly, hanging my coat on one of the pegs.

"Ignore him," Alice told the girl—most likely wide-eyed at my insensitive choice of words—dismissively, "he's probably just having a bad morning."

"Alice," James snapped from the doorway now.

Immediately, she turned her face toward him, pulling her bright red lips into a smile. "Yes?"

He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, toward the lobby. "Your next appointment's here."

Alice jumped to her feet, shoving in the chair to the small card table in the corner, and skipped toward him. "Okay," she responded brightly, "thanks." Alice slipped past James, into the lobby and I rolled my eyes again, crossing my arms across my chest.

"Edward," James continued, "you help Bella out. Show her the ropes." He had the nerve to wink at the chick, and then he was gone.

I groaned, bowing my head to pinch the bridge of my nose in my forefinger and thumb. I could feel the pulse in the digit hammering against the bone.

I really did _not_ want to deal with another chick right now. I'd probably just bitch her out all morning for doing stupid things new people did—she wouldn't be able to help it. But I would still fucking freak—I knew it.

Finally, I opened my eyes, strode over to the card table, and slumped down in Alice's former seat. I stared into the new girl's face. Her brown eyes were wide, and she looked… a little scared, I had to admit.

I couldn't fight the smirk that tugged at my lips. "Hey."

She blinked, and looked down at the table where her fingers her knotted together. Her nails were painted black, a little chipped around the edges. "H-hi."

"Why are you here?" I inquired. This Bella really didn't seem like the kind of girl to work in a tattoo parlour. She looked too… innocent. No makeup, no piercings or tattoos—from what I could see—and it looked like she had no knack for art at all. She wore a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved white t-shirt.

"I need money?" she responded, tucking a few strands of dark hair behind her ear.

"You don't seem like the kind of girl who would want to work in a shit hole like this," I observed, grandly sweeping my arm to show her the back room. Dimly lit, crowded with useless shit.

"What do you mean?" she demanded, eyes suddenly meeting mine.

I shrugged and leaned back in my chair. I folded my arms over my chest, surveying her. My eyes lingered a bit too long on her breasts, but I really didn't care. "You're too innocent."

"Innocent." She repeated.

I nodded.

She ran her fingers through her hair, leisurely examining the ends. "Hmm," she murmured, "interesting."

The buzzing of tattoo pens, and murmuring of people was the only sound in the suddenly thick air.

Finally, I rose from my seat, shoving my chair back in. She looked up at me, questioningly.

I made a small, flicking gesture with my hand. "C'mon," I urged, "I gotta show you the ropes."

- - -

**APOV**

Bella was a really cool girl; besides the fact she didn't wear makeup or put an effort into what she wore.

We were parked at a small diner just down the street from _Drift_, on our lunch break.

I munched my salad thoughtfully. Across the table, Bella was picking at the whole wheat bread of her turkey and Swiss sandwich, reading Romeo and Juliet.

"I've never read Rome and Juliet. Is it good?" I inquired.

She placed her palm in the center of the page, glancing up at me. Her cheeks pinkened.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, and flicked the book shut, shoving it to one side of the table, "I'm sorry. I'm just… used to eating alone, is all," she muttered, taking a huge bite of her sandwich. It filled her cheeks, and she chewed awkwardly, choking a bit.

"No, no, it's fine," I assured her, "I usually text my boyfriend, anyway," I dismissed, reaching into my purse to pull out my phone. I waited for her to go back to her book, but she didn't so I set my phone beside me, on the table.

She shook her head, swallowing hard, and wincing when the lump of sandwich went down wrong. She took a sip from her water bottle. "So," she began, "when did you start working at Drift?"

"Mm, probably about three or four years ago," I told her, stabbing a leaf of lettuce with the prongs of my fork.

"Really? That long ago?" she seemed surprised.

I nodded. "I dropped out of high school early," I admitted. Suddenly, I was too ashamed to look at her.

"Oh," she said, taking another bite of her sandwich. She had to tug a bit to bite off the crust, "why?" she asked through clenched teeth. Her head snapped back a bit when she finally got the bite off. She chewed intently.

I shoved the forkful of salad into my mouth, trying to stall. "Things… went a little bad," I finally proclaimed.

She didn't say anything more. We ate in silence for the rest of the meal, before I decided we better get back.

She agreed, standing up quickly to throw away her own paper plate and recycle her bottle.

- - -

**EPOV**

When I _finally_ got off of work for the day, I jumped into my Volvo and headed over to Tanya's, sending her a quick text for her to be naked and ready for me. She lived with two of her sisters, but they had gone off to New York City this week, so we would have the whole house to ourselves.

Tanya lived on the West Side of the city. Her house was made of brick, and didn't keep heat very well, but there was an amazing apple tree out in front of it—just blooming in the early spring weather. It was raining, and the droplets plinked on my windshield as I drove up her street and swung into her driveway, next to her little blue Audi.

The porch light was on, and so was her bedroom. I got out of the Volvo and jogged up the porch steps to ring the doorbell.

I just really needed some tension relief. James had been riding my ass all day, and I needed to let go.

A moment later, the door swung open, revealing Tanya. Her buttery hair had been curled and bounced around her face and shoulders. Her full, pouty lips were shiny with a dark shade of lipstick. She greeted me with a grin in nothing but a thigh grazing, silken robe—the same color as her lip stick.

"Hey," she purred, and stretched up on her tip toes to lock her lips on mine.

I lifted her up into my arms, and her legs locked around my waist. I stepped into the house, shutting the door behind me with my foot. "Mmm, hey," I responded, nuzzling into her neck as I slipped my shoes off.

I headed upstairs, veering off into her bedroom. It was dimly lit with warm lamps, throwing shadows over the room and silver duvet of the Queen bed. I lay her out on it, her hair falling around her face. She bit her lip—something she knew drove me crazy—and I leaned down to press my body into hers.

She moaned, pressing herself into me further.

"Edward," she whispered as I moved my lips to the hollow of her neck, dragging my hands down over her breasts and ribcage.

"Mmm?"

"I've been thinking of you all day," she gasped as I sucked on her jugular vein.

"Really?" I murmured, slipping my fingers under the belt of the robe.

Her laboured breath washed over the right side of my face as I shoved the garment inside, brushing my fingers over the soft curve of her waist.

"Yes," she breathed, and I felt goose bumps crawl over her skin in the wake of my fingers.

"And what were you thinking?" I urged, brushing my hands up to cup her breasts in my palms.

Her back arched. "Uhh," she moaned as I smoothed my thumbs over her nipples. "How I wanted you to fuck me," she finally said.

"Mmm," I encouraged her words, dipping down to press my lips, open mouthed to the swell of her breasts.

"And touch me," she panted as my hot breath washed over her skin.

"Uh huh?" I mumbled, dragging my tongue over her pebbled nipple. I felt myself begin to harden in the confines of my jeans.

"Oh, fuck," she whimpered, when I nudged her legs apart with my hands, "and… lick me," she mewled, lifting her hips to rub them against mine.

I released her nipple with a pop, shoving her hips back down onto the bed.

"And…?" I huskily urged, moving to wrap my lips around her other breast.

"Fuck," she heaved again when my fingers slipped between her nether lips. The wetness coated my fingers and my eyes nearly rolled into the back of my head at the thought of ramming into that.

The only reason I warmed her up like this—like I really loved her—was so that, in the end, the sex could just be better for me. I know, I'm a fucking dick hole. Take it or leave it.

"What else, Tan?" I hummed in her ear, slipping one finer inside of her.

She tipped her head back, exposing the smooth, pale stretch of skin across her throat, panting heavily into the dimly lit bedroom.

"Oh, please," she was begging.

"What?" I urged, pressing my thumb to her clit. The pulse nudged at it, and she whimpered wordlessly. "What, Tanya?" I demanded, drawing one quick circle around her clit with my thumb, while adding another finger to her pussy.

"Oh, fuck, _fuck_," she was gasping, and lifted her hips again.

I used my other hand to push her down again. "Tell me what you want," I murmured in her ear as I pumped in and out of her.

"Fuck me," she wheezed, knotting her fingers into the sheets.

"Hmm?"

"Fuck me!" she screamed.

Her walls began to flutter around my fingers, so I drew them out, discreetly wiping her juices off on the bed sheets. They streaked across the silver duvet, and I hoped it wouldn't stain.

"My pleasure," I moaned, unbuttoning my pants and shoving them and my boxers to my ankles. I lifted her knees to her chest and rammed into her.

She cried out, her back rising off of the bed, and she tightened around me again.

"You like that, baby?" I murmured, releasing her legs so that I could get more leverage to pound into her.

"Mm," she mewled, digging her nails into her own thighs. Nail marks bit at the smooth flesh. Her hand crept to where our bodies met, but I grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, thrusting into her harder. "Edward," she whined when I leaned down to kiss her neck. She wrapped her legs around my waist, rising up to meet mine with her own thrusts.

"What?"

"Harder?" she begged. A sheen of sweat was appearing on her skin. I complied, banging her almost as hard as I could. I didn't care if she got bruised, I just cared about my own pleasure.

"Please," she whispered, tugging at the hold I still had on her wrists.

I sucked her right nipple into my mouth again.

"Edward!" she gasped. She tugged harder at my hold.

"What?" I groaned, close to my own orgasm.

"Touch me," she pleaded.

I released her wrists, but instead of reaching down to touch her, I grabbed the head board over her head, ramming into her quicker.

Her hand wedged between our bodies, touching her own clit. She furiously rubbed at it, whimpering and moaning, so I knew she was close.

Her walls began to flutter around my cock again.

"Shit, shit, fuck," she was whispering, her eyes shut tight.

"Fuck." I stated, and emptied myself into her. I buried my face in the pillows beside her head, panting heavily, drowning in euphoria.

She was still mewling like a fucking kitten, and rubbing like she was going to die in an hour.

Finally, she cried out, her walls tightening around me as I pulled out. I watched her face contort in pleasure. She cried out in orgasmic pleasure, fingers still on her clit, prolonging it.

I moved to the foot of the bed, pulling my pants and boxers on again, as she panted and keened behind me.

"Where are you going?" she managed to ask through her state of ecstasy.

I pulled my shoes and shirt back on—I don't know how or when it had come off—and rose to my feet.

I turned to look at her. She slumped back into the pillows, breathing heavily, staring at me with hazy eyes. Her legs were still spread, exposing herself to me.

"Where are you going?" she repeated, probably exhausted then.

"Home." I responded, grabbing my jacket from the floor.

She might have said something, but I couldn't decipher it. When I glanced over my shoulder again, she had rolled onto her side, hugging the pillow close to her, eyes closed.

I walked to the doorway, lingering there, watching her naked ass sleep. Then, rolling my eyes, I strode back to where she was, flinging a blanket over her.

Then I left.

_**- - -**_

_**A/N: See? Edward has some class. He just chooses not to show it much… **_

_**Reviews are better than first chapter lemons!!!**_


	2. Delicious

_**A/N: Holy shit! So, before I say anything else, I am amazed at how many alerts I got in the FIRST NIGHT! I have NEVER had a story this popular! I am humbled to know how many of you are enjoying my story! Thank you, thank you, thank you.**_

_**At first I was a little apprehensive about posting this kind of story so publicly. Usually, I just keep these types of things to myself, saved away on my hard drive only for me to read.**_

_**I have to admit though, I'm so glad I posted it so that others could read it. I don't regret it.**_

_**Apparently lots of you like Dickward. Yay for Dickward! **_

_**Anyway, I just wanted to say that I am absolutely appalled, amazed, GLAD how many people alerted this. **_

_**Sweet.**_

_**So, last chapter was really just a little intro to the story. I really wasn't expecting it to be so long. I hope I can live up to last chapter's length, and your guys' expectations… **_

_**Soo… I'm going to stop rambling now and start writing, so that you guys can read, and go ahead and leave those amazing reviews you all know you want to leave. **_

_**Tell your friends about this story! Bring 'em all over!**_

_**- - -**_

_Delicious: highly pleasing to the senses._

_- - -_

**BPOV**

"Jesus, is my hand ever cramped," Alice complained from the corner of the back room. She donned her coat, slinging her purse over her shoulder. Then she turned to look at me. "You're lucky you didn't have to do any tattoos today. I tell you…" she said, trailing off. She rolled her eyes and then started toward the curtain partition.

I giggled, zipping my own coat. I grabbed my back pack—which I much rather preferred than a purse—and followed Alice into the lobby.

"Bye, James!" she called toward the reception desk, "bye, Angela."

The both of them looked up from the computer screen they were working over. Angela smiled.

"See ya," James called, glancing between Alice and I. He returned his attention to the computer screen.

"See you tomorrow," Angela called to Alice, "Bye, Bella. See you again, nice meeting you." She smiled kindly before tuning into something James was rambling about.

I really was surprised at how many people had been so understanding and nice to me on my first day. Minus Edward—he'd been kinda tense, but Alice had just told me he'd been having a bad day.

Customers had smiled at me, and Alice had found the time to help me many a time throughout the day, though I was sure she was busy with her own things. I felt guilty about prying her away from her work, and attempted to figure things out on my own.

James had kept me in the back the whole day, filling out paper work, and to practice on my designs. Truthfully, I spent most of the time reading my tattered copy of Romeo and Juliet. I was more of an inverted kind of person. I didn't like people that much. I had always been that way, maybe even more so when I turned seventeen.

I'd read it too many times to count, but I still couldn't put it down. Tragic love stories had always been sort of a clincher for me—a hook and sinker, if you will.

Maybe because it was the story of my life.

Alice pushed open the front door, triggering the clinging of the bell overhead, and we stepped outside.

Rain hammered against the black awning of the tattoo parlour, and I squinted through the gloom, unhappy. I pulled my hood over my hair, tucking it behind my ears so there was minimal wetness, and, after calling goodbye to Alice when she headed to the other side of the parking lot, dodging rain drops, darted to my own, run down truck.

Already, almost an inch of rain had gathered in the bed, and I sighed, climbing into the cab, tossing my bag on the passenger side of the bench.

I started the ignition up and blasted the heat, shaking my hair out of my hood to warm it up—somehow still managing to get wet even though it had been shielded.

While waiting for the truck to warm up, I turned on the stereo. _Hey, Soul Sister_ by Train was playing, and I found myself humming along with the singer as I backed out of my spot, carefully and lined up at the gaping mouth of the parking lot behind Alice's amazingly ostentatious yellow Porsche.

How on Earth did she afford something like that? I mean, she worked at a _tattoo parlour_ for God's sake! I filled my own truck—which I got for free as a homecoming present from my dad when I was seventeen, by the way—five dollars at a time. Alice waved giddily at me in her rear view mirror, and I chuckled, waving back. Then she hung a right, I hung a left, and she was gone.

The torrential downpour beat heavily on the roof of my truck, and I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel as I waited for several red lights to change.

It might just have been my imagination, but I could have sworn that I hit every red stop light on my way to the grocery store.

After gathering the ingredients to the dinner I planned to make that night, I headed home.

Earlier in the summer, when I'd moved from the small town of Forks, down to Seattle, I'd rented a condominium with a nice girl around my age on the West side of the city. It was made of break, and wasn't a very good heat holder, so I kept a space heater in my room at night.

My roommate kept to herself mostly, and kept her part of things pretty organized. We got along well. I cooked, she cleaned—apart from my bedroom and bathroom—and once in awhile we watched TV together.

She was busy planning her wedding, which was two months away, so she was out and about a lot of the time nowadays, but it didn't really bother me that much anymore. I had found an exciting job—which had been my goal in Seattle—so I kept myself occupied now.

I drove down the familiar road to the condominium and when I pulled into the driveway, I found it to be empty. She was probably still out and about.

The rain had escalated to needle-point-like force, nearly piercing the pavement below with its pushiness. After I'd removed the keys from the ignition, I grabbed my back pack and groceries, flipping my hood up again, and darted out through the rain, and up the slippery porch steps.

Surprisingly, I didn't slip. These new converse were like a God given gift. After unlocking the front door, I slipped inside, dropping my bag on the floor. I moved through the small main floor of the condo, flipping on lights as I went, my shoes squelching against the floor.

I set the two bags of groceries on the granite island in the kitchen, sighing, finally home. This was probably my favourite house in the whole condo. Granite countertops, state of the art appliances—what wasn't to love?

I unzipped my coat, shrugged it off and slipped my feet out of my sneakers, moving to unpack the groceries. I shoved the plastic bags into a drawer where we kept our bags, pulled out a pot and filled it with water after setting the chicken and a cutting board aside.

I sprinkled a bit of salt into the water, washed my hands, and cut the chicken into cubes.

When the water had boiled, I dumped a few handfuls of fettuccini noodles into the bubbling water, and set the timer for nine minutes.

As I was melting butter in a pan, the phone began to ring. While stirring the butter around in the pan, I reached for the phone, pressed 'talk' and brought it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Bella?" my roommate asked, nearly having to shout over the background noise.

"Rose?" I called into the phone, "where are you?"

"Um," I heard her heels click on the floor and the background noise recede. A door slammed, "we're at King County, trying to get our marriage licence, but it's really busy."

I could basically hear her pouting over the phone lines. "We got our cake ordered today, though. And we've been running around all day trying to choose our decorations, and there was a crisis with the flowers..." she cut herself off, and took a deep breath. "What are you making for dinner?" she finally inquired.

"Chicken Alfredo. Is Emmett coming over?"

She hesitated. "Probably," she finally admitted, "he's starving."

I nodded, glancing at the boiling pot of pasta. "Kay. What time do you think you'll me home?" I asked as I rested the fork to the edge of the pan and dropped another handful of pasta into the pot.

"Six thirtyish?" she guessed.

"Okay, see you then."

"Yep. Bye, Bella." She hung up, and I set the phone on the counter beside me, swirling the butter around in the pan a few more times. I tossed the chicken in to sauté it.

I flicked on the TV, changing it to the news while I whipped up a quick side salad, meticulous about the ingredients. Rose was trying to stay thin for her wedding day.

I, on the other hand, believed she could have eaten that whole pot of Alfredo and not gain one ounce. Her metabolism was like quick fire.

I set the salad aside, and turned my attention to the beeping timer. After I'd drained the water from the pasta, I set it back on the burner.

I was combining the cheeses and creams in a sauce pan when the front door opened.

"Jesus Christ," Rose called from the entry way. "It's pouring out there."

"Welcome home," I called, glancing out the window. It really _was_ raining hard.

A few moments later, Rose and Emmett stumbled into the kitchen—soaked.

I couldn't hold back the laughter that burst through my lips. "What did you guys _do_? Walk home?"

Rose glared, shaking her head. She walked past me to pop a stray noodle, which was hanging from the edge of the pot, into her mouth. She groaned when she saw her reflection in the dark reflection of the back window. "It's just raining really hard."

Then she disappeared upstairs, probably to primp and fix her hair.

I was left alone in the kitchen with Emmett.

"So," I started awkwardly, "how's the wedding plan thing going? Lot's of fun?"

He shrugged, slipping into a bar stool, fiddling with the straps of Rose's abandoned Gucci. "Sure. But Rose has it pretty much covered."

I smirked, pouring the melted sauce over the noodles. "Well, you better not tell her that. She'll have your head if she finds out you don't really care what's going on."

Emmett chuckled.

I added the chicken to the noodles, and as I was pulling plates from the cupboard, Rose came bouncing back downstairs. She'd pulled her hair up into a ponytail and switched her pencil skirt and red blouse for a white tank top and a pair of spandex sweats.

Once I had served everyone their Alfredo, we sat down to eat.

"So," I said, after swallowing my first bite, "how's the planning going?" I asked, gazing pointedly at Emmett.

He sent me a patronizing look as Rose took a sip of her water, unable to see over the rim of the glass.

When she set it down, she rolled her eyes. "God, help me, Bella. It's so stressful. I feel like there's still a million things to be done, and the wedding's only eight weeks away!"

I mulled this over, chewing a piece of chicken thoughtfully. "Well, I know you can pull it off," I finally assured her.

She smiled kindly. "Thank you, Bella. That means a lot. Only if it is a _little_ input. That's more than you'll see from him," she chuckled, poking Emmett in the arm with her fork.

"Ouch!" he yelped, pulling away from her.

I giggled awkwardly, twirling noodles around on my fork.

"You're gonna pay for that," he basically growled, reaching over with his own fork to stab at her noodles.

"Emmett!" she squealed as he pressed his body against hers unnecessarily seductively.

He grinned into her face as he chewed, and once he swallowed, locked his lips with hers.

I decided that that was my cue. I picked up my bowl of half-eaten pasta—suddenly not hungry anymore—and dumped it in the garbage can.

After setting the dish in the washer, I headed upstairs.

Love. It sort of disgusted me now. It wrenched a hole through my chest every time I had to witness it. I didn't know how I would get through the wedding.

I'd only been in love once; with a guy named Mark.

But, like all good things, it'd had to come to an end. A very bad end.

I went into my bedroom, flopping onto my unmade bed. The piles of sheets and the coverlet nudged at the small of my back, a little uncomfortable, but I tried to ignore it as I stared up at the ceiling.

I used to be a very angry person. I used to wear thick rings of eyeliner around my eyes which would always be beyond smudged by the end of the day. I used to wear obscene clothing and have a filthy mouth.

But that changed when I met Mark.

I had been in the hospital, getting some blood work done—some testing. I had been with my mother, Renee, at the time, and both of us were terrified of what the blood work would show.

I had gone to my physician earlier in the week with a chronic sore throat, unexplainable fatigue, and a menagerie of unexplained bruises in strange places. He had referred me to a clinic in the Children's Hospital, and that was when things started to go downhill.

With a cotton ball taped over the inside crook of my elbow, my mother and I headed down to the cafeteria to get something to eat—though my stomach was in knots.

And there he was. Passed out in the middle of a secluded hallway. My mother gasped, and froze in her place.

I, on the other hand, rushed forward toward the boy. There was a worrisome blue line around his mouth, and his eyelids were tinted a strange color of gray. His pallid complexion reflected the fluorescent lights unhealthily.

Carefully, I lowered myself to the ground next to him to check his pulse.

"Go get a doctor," I told my mother, placing a hand against his cheek. It was cold—even against my own clammy skin.

As soon as Renee left, the boy opened his eyes. And blinked, focusing on my face. Then he smiled.

"Hey."

Shocked, I could mouth only a small, 'hi'.

The boy began to sit up, but I pushed on his shoulder. "Maybe you should stay down," I suggested—nervously but firmly.

He squeezed his eyelids shut, and then listened to my orders. "Yeah," he agreed, rubbing his forehead, "maybe."

Some color had returned to his cheeks.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Yep. I do this all the time. It's more annoying than anything. I was headed to the cafeteria to get something to eat—the doctors let me off." It was then that I realized he was wearing a hospital gown. He was a patient here. "I guess it was a combination of my weight and the medication. They don't mix well," he noted, grimacing.

"W-why are you here?" I mused aloud.

He sat up, slumping against the wall. I quickly moved out of the middle of the hallway to sit beside him. There was a foot of space between us.

"I have cancer," he informed me, staring down at his hands as if they were suddenly the most satisfying thing in the world.

The shrill ring of my phone startled me, and I opened my eyes, realizing that I'd fallen asleep. I shot up atop the sheets, disoriented by the sudden darkness that had fallen across my bedroom. When I'd gone to sleep it had been light out.

I scrambled for my phone on my nightstand table—in the process knocking a menagerie of things to the floor, pressed 'talk' and brought the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I asked, my voice a little thick from sleep. I cleared my throat.

"Bella!" my mother cried on the other line, and it felt odd suddenly. She'd been so close in my dream/memory, and now, she was all the way in Phoenix.

"Hi, Mom," I replied, propping myself up against the headboard. I was still a little sleepy from my quick nap. "How are you?"

"I'm great!" she replied, "what about you? How did your first day go?"

I sighed, biting down on my bottom lip. "Well," I huffed, "everyone was very welcoming."

"Uh oh," she said, catching on immediately, "tell me all about it."

I rose from my bed, making my way to the adjoining bathroom. "It doesn't even matter," I protested, grabbing a towel from the linen closet.

"Yes, it does, honey," she countered gently.

"Um," I said, hanging the towel beside the shower, "I'll talk to you later. I've got things to get done."

"Okay," she replied, "I love you."

"Love you, too," I mumbled, and then hung up.

I started the shower, not daring to glance at my reflection in the mirror. I was willing to bet twenty bucks that I looked a mess.

After shedding my clothes, I stepped beneath the spray of the water, closing my eyes, wrapping my arms around myself. The warmth felt good, raining down over my skin, and I felt my worries and tensions begin to drift away as the water rubbed and soothed all the kinks and knots from the muscles in my back and neck.

I washed my hair, and when I climbed out of the shower, the mirror was so fogged that I couldn't even decipher my own reflection through the gloom. Had I really been in the shower that long?

I went back into my room to change into a pair of pajamas, straightened out my sheets and then slid beneath them, resting my head to the pillow.

I didn't fall asleep for a long while. The concentration it took to tune out the sounds on the other side of the wall, in Rose's bedroom, was too much to be able to fall asleep to.

So when they stopped, I was finally able to drift away.

- - -

_**END A/N: Yes, I know. It was all Bella's POV. I thought you guys deserved it because last chapter had none of it.**_

_**Reviews are better than delicious chicken alfredo!**_


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